


Bastard

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon, Episode Related, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-08
Updated: 2006-05-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian gets bashed instead of Justin. I also had to tweak the timeline a little for the story to move into the direction i want it to go. So pretend Justins prom took place shortly after the Stockwell affair.PS: Sorry for deleting and reposting this story. I've been trying to upload the next couple of chapters for the last couple of weeks - they showed in my account but were never added in the public area...





	Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Bastard by Silas  
   
Chapter 1   
   
Blood. Brian’s blood.  
It’s everywhere. Everywhere I look. Covering everything I touch.  
Brian…  
I can’t stop the tears as I hold on to the lifeless form of my lover.  
Brian…  
I can feel my chest constrict. Feel myself struggle to draw in my next breath. Feel a panic attack coming up. Blood, so much blood. My world is covered in it. Covered in sticky warm red. It is everywhere. I’m soaked with it. Soaked with my lover’s blood. Literally.  
“Brian,” I whisper, “will you please wake up.” A hoarse painfilled whimper left my throat, when the usually o so lively hazel eyes remain shut.  “I’m here, Brian,” I tell my unresponsive lover, “right here, do you hear!”  
I have to be strong. Try to be strong. Fight the panic attack with all my might. Force my lungs to slowly draw oxygen.  
“Brian,” I press my forehead to that of my lover. “Brian please wake up.”  
Somebody must have called 911 since the blaring of sirens cut through the eerie silence of the night.  
“You’ll have to let go of him, kid.” A nurse tries to pry me away from the older man.  
“Justin,” Daphne I think, recognizing her voice, her touch. ”please, let the doctor do her job.”  
I struggle when I feel somebody trying to pull him away from my love.  
“The kid’s in shock, get him on a stretcher.”  
Brian. I try to hang on to his hand.  
   
Next thing I know is I’m at the hospital. The oncoming panic attack must have gotten the better of me.  
“Brian?”  
“Thank God, Justin, you’re awake!”  
Daphne.  
“Where… how is Brian?”  
Her tense smile tells me all I need to know.  
“I need to…,” I push myself in a somewhat upright position. “…where is he?”  
“He’s still in surgery” Daphne tells me while she tries to make me lay down again.  
“How long was I out?” I ask and shake of her hands.  
“A couple of hours,” she says. “But Debbie’s here and Michael and Lindsey…,” she trails off.  
“I wanna go see him!” I resolutely get off of the bed.  
“Justin…”  
I ignore her pleading and make my way to the door. “Take me to him!” I demand.  
She sighs but grabs hold of my elbow nonetheless and leads me to the escalator.  


When the lift arrives Daphne graces me with a scolding look but refrains from further voicing her discontent. She presses seven and we’re on our way up.

   


The moment we exit the cabin I realize something isn’t quite right. Immediately my eyes fall on Deb, arguing with a nurse.

“Hi Deb,” I announce myself to her.

“Sunshine!” She whirls around and clutches me in a death grip.

“How is he?” I ask, refusing her the chance to ask about myself.

If possible, her grip on me even tightens. “He’s still in surgery,” she snivels. “Oh Sunshine…”

“Mrs. Novotny,” the nurse budges in before Debbie has a chance to fill me in, “May I ask you again to assist me get in touch with Mr. Kinney’s family…”

“I’m his family,” I tell the nurse in a determined voice. “Mr. Kinney is my life partner.”

“Justin!” Debbie scolds me quietly.

“His life partner,” the nurse chooses to ignore Deb and focuses on my person. 

“Yes, his life partner,” I reaffirm, “Justin Taylor.”

“Well, Mr. Taylor, as Mr. Kinney’s partner you might be able to shed some light on the status of Mr. Kinney’s health insurance.”

“The status of Brian’s health insurance,” I stammer and exchange a quick look with Deb.

“Yes, the status of his health insurance,” the nurse repeats with an air of impatience. “We found his membership card in Mr. Kinney’s purse,” she goes on, “however, when I contacted the company I was told that for close to three months Mr Kinney …”

…neglected to covered his insurance policy – I finish silently. Oh my god, I feel all colour drain from my face. I know she’s right. After all as a consequence of Brian’s crusade against Stockwell we live in an unfurnished loft. I knew he hadn’t been able to cover all of his running expences – but his life insurance? It made sense in a way. Brian never got sick.

“Mr. Taylor?” The nurse insists, even though from the look on face she must have a fairly good idea of what to expect. “Mr. Taylor, if you’d just …”

I can’t breathe.

“Justin?”

Everything is in a blur.

“Sunshine?”

What am I supposed to do? I’m just a schoolboy. I’ve got no money of my own, how will I be able to cover for Brian. Oh my god, will they stop surgery now that they know? I could probably try as a dancer again. But what if they what their money right away? Debbie and Michael won’t be able to help and neither will Lindsey and Melanie or Emmett or Ted. My knees give in and I would have fallen flat on my face if Daphne and Deb hadn’t grabbed me in time.

“Please don’t let him die, please don’t…” I beg as my world fades into black.

   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
Chapter 2  
   
I wake up to the steady thump of a heartbeat. God, we must have fallen asleep on the couch once again. I carefully try to stretch the kinks out of my back.  
“I just had the weirdest dream,” I snuggle closer in the warm embraces.  
“Hm?” My lover replies in a sleepy voice. “What was that?”  
I take deep breath, allowing myself to be comforted by the uniqueness of his scent when all of a sudden I realize that something isn’t quite right. “Brian?” I ask my body growing stiff as a board.  
“It’s Emmett, Sweetpea,” a sleep-heavy voice whispers in my ear. “You had a bit of a melt down.”  
And all of a sudden it all comes back to me.  
Brian.  
The Prom.  
Hobbes.  
The bat.  
The blood.  
Brian.  
“Brian?”  
“He’s out of surgery, Dearie, but is yet to wake up.” Emmett’s hold on me tightens. “He’ll be fine, Sweetheart.” I feel him press a comforting kiss to the crown of my head. “Your man will be fine.”  
I have a quick look around. We’re on the floor. Em with his back against the wall, me right in front of him cradled tightly to his chest.  
“We in a church?” I ask, since I can’t really figure where we are.  
“Yeah.” I can feel him nod against my head. “We’re in the prayer room. You collapsed and I couldn’t think of another place to take you.”  
“Okay,” I sniff, struggling against a fresh onslaught of tears.  
Emmett remains quiet for a change, simply allows me to draw comfort from his closeness and the unexpected strength of his embraces.  
   
We must have gone back to sleep since the next time I stir sunlight filters into the room and voices are drifting inside from the ward.  
“Sunshine?”  
“I’m awake.”  
“You mind if we get up?” I give an ambivalent half nod. “Good!” With a groan and a shove Emmett manhandles me in an upright position. “This night has been hell on my back.”  
We slowly make our way back to the intensive care unit.  
“Justin!” The moment we step out of the elevator Debbie has me in a bear hug. “Everybody was so worried when you collapsed.”  
The nasty look on Michael’s face lets me know that not all have been worried about little old me. I’m about to comment on it when I realize that this isn’t about me – about anybody of us.  
“What did they say?” I inquire instead, which causes Debbie to burst into tears and Michael to shoot an even nastier look my way.  
“They refuse further treatment,” Deb sobs.  
“They what?” Within the blink of an eye all blood is draining from my face and I’m feeling light headed again. “But he is not…, he didn’t…,” I refuse to finish the sentence, refuse to think the words, let alone speak them aloud.  
“Of course not, sweetheart,” Debbie crushes me in another motherly bear hug. “Surgery went fine.”  
Thank God! I say a silent prayer and allow myself to be hugged.  
“Yeah, they managed to stabilize him,” Michael grinds through his teeth. “But what fucking good will it do him if they refuse to do anything else until the money issue has been solved?”  
I stare at him. “Come again?”  
“They did what they had to do to keep him alive,” spat the angry brunette. “But they refuse to do anything beyond that until somebody will come fore and show them some cash.”  
   
   
   
   
   
Chapter 3  
   


Money. Why is it always about money? God, I wish I had the kind of financial backup to just give them their bloody money. I don’t get it. Here we are one of the richest and most advanced countries in the world and yet we haven’t managed to outgrow the need to measure the value of a person’s life by the size of his bank account. Yes, I know I’m being unfair since the hospital actually treated Brian even though there was and still is no insurance to cover his surgery. But still…

The last day has been the hardest 24 hours of my life. God, how I wish there was something – anything – I could do. They won’t let me see him. Well, they actually let me see him, but they won’t allow me to sit with him or hold his hand. 

Surgery was successful, that’s all I’ve been told. Debbie and Michael have been with me the whole time but they are not allowed in either. Family only. But we are his family! What good is this god damn family only policy if the patient doesn’t have a family willing to be there for him? The annoyingly perky front desk nurse not just had the nerve to suggest we let Brian’s family know about their son and tell them to come by and cover his treatment. I don’t really know a lot about Brian’s home life but from the bits and pieces I’ve gathered so far his old man and lady are pretty warped – an abusive drunk and a bible bashing hypocrite. God, I feel like shit. I need to be close to Brian. Brian needs me close. He needs to know that I haven’t left him, that I haven’t forgotten about him, that he is not alone. 

Why won’t they allow me inside? Can’t they see how fragile, how very lonely and vulnerable Brian is right now: attached to all these machines, most of his head wrapped up with shiny white gauze. 

“Justin?” Lindsey walks up to me and puts her arm around my shoulder. “How are you holding up?” She asks.

“Hm,” I give a noncommittal shrug. 

“He’ll pull through,” she tries to comfort me. “He’s Brian Kinney, and for what it’s worth he’s pretty much undestructable!” she gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze.

I look away, knowing all too well that her words are one big pile of BS. I only have to look through the small window to his room to know how big a load of BS that is.  

   
   
   
   
Chapter 4  
   


“Mr. Kinney?” I’m not really sure what to expect when the door is being pulled open, giving way to a red-eyed grumpy looking man, half empty bottle of Budweiser in his hand, evaporating the sour odour of stale cigarette smoke and booze. 

“Good afternoon, Sir,” I hold out my hand in greeting even though the mere thought of this man – Brian’s father – touching a part of me makes me want to shudder in disgust. “My name is Justin Taylor and I’m here because I would like to talk to you about son.”

“My son?” He repeats squinting at me out of watery blue eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” I give him my best winning smile, all the while wondering how a part coming from the sordid drunk leaning heavily against the doorframe ever managed to create the bright and beautiful man that is my lover Brian. It is like the longer I look at the man the more I’m convinced that there must have been some kind of mix up at the hospital back then. I mean you just have to look at them to know. On the one side there is Brian: smart, tall, handsome; and on the other side there is his dad: a wreck, body and brain decomposed by a lifetime of liquor and manual work. I know that I’ll have to play it cool, that I mustn’t allow my repugnance for the man to reflect on my face. 

“Sir? I’m here because of Brian,” I speak up once again when Kinney Sr. fails to react. “Sir? May I talk to you about your son,” I try a different approach when the man refuses to do anything but to hang on to the doorframe and stare at my face. “You see, Sir, your son Brian,…” I hesitate for a moment because I’m unsure what words to choose.

“What son?” The old man mutters, letting out a loud belch after helping himself to a hearty mouthful of beer. “Don’t have a son.”

“Sir?” I try interject unhappy with how the one-sided conversation is developing, unfortunately for me Brian’s father seemed to have warmed up to the topic at hand.

“Glad t’ be rid of t’ bastard at last,” he keeps on rumbling. “Paid fer t’ bloody bastard fer far t’ long, far t’ long,…”

“Sir? Mr. Kinney, Sir?” I try to interrupt but the inebriated man has lost himself in his own inane rumble. 

A low gasp makes me look up. 

“Mrs. Kinney,” I greet, when I lock eyes with a grey-haired woman whom I assume Brian’s mother and who by the look of it has been eavesdropping on the conversation between her husband and myself for quite some time. 

“Mrs. Kinney, I’m here because of Brian,” I try again, but the woman just throws me a withering look before she turns around on her heels. Great this leaves me to deal with Mr. booze for brain all by my lonely self. God, what a waste of time! Why didn’t I listen to Debbie when she told me to stay the fuck away from the Kinney family? I haven’t got a clue how to deal with the drunken geezer, rumbling about his wife’s bastard son. The ungrateful little rat he was forced to waste his hard earned money on. The bastard who never should have been allowed to live.

Standing across from the man, looking him in the eye, listening to his hateful triad I finally get what everybody has been trying to tell me all along: Brian doesn’t have a family. Well, he does have family but none of its members are related to him by blood. His birth family doesn’t want him – never did. They hate him for something he couldn’t have done anything about. They hate him for something I’m fairly sure he doesn’t even know about. 

“I’m sorry I came here wasting your time, Sir,” I whisper, sick to my stomach, before I turn around and head for the nearest bus stop. 

I finally get it. I finally understand where the hate came from that Brian had to grow up with. I understand what he represents to his parents. I understand why they don’t want to know about him. Why they don’t want to even know why I’m here. Why they don’t want to be reminded of his very existence – their living reminder of where they went wrong. I understand because the proof has been handed to me on a silver platter. But what about Brian, what am I supposed to tell him? Should I really let him in on this discovery of mine?

Oh God, all of a sudden everything about my lover makes just so much more sense. The tricking, the no relationship no love attitude, the trust issue, the low self-esteem camouflaged well behind a wall of arrogance and brazenness. It’s only now that I realize how very important the Novotny family must have been for the abused and unloved teenage Brian. I silently vow to myself to try my very best to never come between Brian and his surrogate family no matter how much they may grind on my nerves. 

“Here!”

I’m about to access the bus when the middle-aged woman who has been standing next to me for a little while hands me a folded piece of paper.

“’xuse me?” I frown at her, absentmindedly accepting the slip of paper held out to me.

“Take it and don’t come back,” the woman hisses at me.

“What the fuck…?” I stare after her quickly retreating figure.

“Sir?” The bus driver makes himself known.

“Yeah, right,” I hurry to hand him a couple of dollar bills, eyes still firmly fixed on the back of the withdrawing stranger. 

Fuck, what a day! I think by myself, stepping further down the middle of the bus, finding and securing myself an empty seat. 

   
   
   
   
Chapter 5  
   


Halfway on my way back to the hospital I’ve managed to work up the courage to look at the piece of paper which has come into my possession in such an odd way. I slowly unfold the damn thing and read:

#448 832 

Leonard St. James 

A name and a number – what the fuck is this supposed to tell me? I figure the woman must have been Brian’s sister Claire. So is this her way of telling me that she would like to talk to me some more? Is this her way of telling me how to get in touch with her? But then again didn’t she tell me to take the information and never to come back? God, this family is so very fucked up, growing up in an environment like that it’s no wonder Brian turned out the way he did.

I quietly reach for my mobile to send out a text message, letting the gang know that I’m on my way back to the hospital as well as making sure that nothing has happened to Brian since I left his side. 

How very much I would like to talk to one of them right now. Tell them what I have learned from Claire. To bounce ideas on what this name and number might be supposed to mean. I know that I can’t. Michael and Deb would go apeshit the moment they learned of my little excursion to the Kinney household. And the rest of them? I’m not really sure. It’s just that something inside of me warns me against entrusting them with a piece of information as big and as sensitive as the one I just came across. I seriously ponder whether or not to get in touch with my mom. In the end I decide against telling her – too much hostility on her side as far as Brian is concerned. Which once again leaves me a single combatant with nobody but myself to rely on.

I get off at city centre and where I wait for the bus, which will take me back to the hospital and my injured lover. I’m quite surprised about the way I’ve been holding up so far, because on the inside I’m all mixed up, ready to falling apart from pain and exhaustion. Well, I guess the saying that a person is being capable of being strong if this is what the situation requires is only too true – especially if there is nobody there to pick this person up should he allow himself to fall apart. 

I sigh and fiddle with my mobile phone. Before I can change my mind I punch in the number my mysterious source handed to me. My heart is about to burst out of my chest as I listen to the ring tone and my breathing is so hard and irregular as though I just finished a five miles run. God, I hope nobody’s home. I hope…

“Hello?” A male voice says.

Great Taylor, you better think quick!

“Hello?” The voice insists.

“Um, well yes, I,” I stammer, unsure how to continue.

A quiet chuckle interrupts my incoherent rumbling. “What is it, son?” The disembodied voice asks. And this time I can tell that it is an older person who’s at the other end of the line. 

“I’m looking for Leonard St. James,” I finally manage to say. “Is this he?”

I don’t know what I expected but I sure as hell didn’t expect the former chuckle to turn into a fullblown laugh. 

“What the fuck,” I swear.

“Language, my boy, language!” I’m reprimanded in a non-reproachful voice.

“Well, is this Mr. St. James?” I try again.

“It sure is, my boy,” the man lets me know in his calm unwavering voice at which I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. “However,” he unhurriedly continues. “it is not Leonard you are talking to.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say.

“This is Leonard’s father, Vincent St. James.” The man eventually explains. 

“Okay…” By now I’m more than a little confused. Bloody Claire!

“You see, is that it’s been a good twenty years since I last had one of Len’s love interests calling my line.”

One of his what???

I give a shocked and highly unmanly squeak, which only seems to highten the old man’s amusement.

“Since I’m the last St. James in the book, you must have realized by now that my son’s got a silent number,” he tells me in his calm unhurried way. 

What the fuck?

“Eh, Mr. St. James?” I try to interject.

“The boy strongly believed that those who really needed to talk to him would be able figure out a way to get in touch.”

“Okay?” I’m not really sure where this conversation is heading but have the strong feeling that until I figure it out it will be easier to just let the man talk.

 “…and since I feel that persistence should be rewarded I’ll let you have my boy’s cell phone number – you have pen and paper at the ready?”

I quickly dig through my backpack in search of my ever-ready drawing utensils. 

“I’m listening,” I say once I’ve fitted myself with the necessary equipment.

“Alright, my boy, here we go…”

   
   
Chapter 6  
   


            What a day. I can’t believe I actually did what I did. And I’m not just talking about making my way over to the Kinney residence. God, poor Brian, his family sure is fucked up to the max. How I wish I could talk to somebody right now. My mind is all muddled – too much information in too short a time. 

            “Justin!”

            Lindsay has me in a bearhug the moment I set foot at the ICU. 

“How are you holding up?” She inquires and gives me the once over. “Weren’t you off for a shower and a change of clothes?”

Fuck! I think but all that comes out of my mouth is an indefinite: “Uh…”

“Well, you probably fell asleep,” she assumes and tussles my hair. “There hasn’t been a change so far, so you did well to lay down for a bit.”

I give her a tired rise of the corners of my mouth and a nod – let her believe what she wants. 

“I want to see him,” I say to nobody in particular and step around her towards I know I will find my injured love.

“Yes, sure,” Lindsay hurries to follow me obviously irritated by my unusual behaviour. But I just continue my way down the corridor, cut off any attempt on her side of pumping me for further information or simply continuing her investigation on where I went and how come it took me so long to come back. Halfway down the floor I can see Michael and Ben lingering in front of a room. I nod a quick hello and elbow my way past Michael so I can get a look at my lover through the small window inbuilt in the hospital door. I swallow hard, trying to fight of the tears, which are only too close to the surface.

“Brian,” I whisper, even though I’m very much aware that there is no way for him to hear my quiet plead. “Did one of you talk to the doctor?” I ask the small group which has been gathering behind my turned back.

“We tried,” Lindsay sighs. “But nobody will tell us a thing – doctor-patient-confidence, you know.”

I figured as much.

“Well, maybe it is time to get Brian’s parents involved,” she suggests at which Michael and I simultaneously bark out a determined no. We exchange a quick puzzled look.

Oh this is all so fucked up.

I press my face so close to the little window that it fogs up with my breath. What am I supposed to do? I think about the number scribbled on the back of my drawing pad. But what good would it do Brian or anybody else if I were to actually use it? Yes, the old Mr. St. James sounded like a nice chap, which probably is a good indication that his son is going to be a nice chap as well – especially judging by the way said son’s son turned out. But heck, it is one thing to make fun of a caller who you figure has a crush on your adult son, but something totally different if said caller introduces himself as the better half of a grandson you’ve never have heard of who is in hospital because he just happened to have fallen victim to a hate-crime.

But I also know that despite his adopted patchwork family Brian will need more that this thrown together bunch of people. He needs a parent – I know that he has one in Deb, but what good does it do him if she’s not even allowed into his room? He needs someone with the legal right to act on his behalf. Someone, who has Brian’s best interest in mind. Someone, who isn’t too afraid or too spooked to make the though decisions. I short he needs someone who isn’t Joan or Jack Kinney.

“Justin?”

I flinch when a hand settles on my shoulder, effectively interrupting the dangerous direction my thoughts are heading. 

“Ben,” I quietly acknowledge the speaker. 

“We are heading home,” the tall an lets me know. “Do you want us to give you a ride back to the loft?”

“Head home?” I repeat.

“Yes,” he gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s late and the doctor says there’s nothing we can do.”

“I know,” I say even though it makes me so angry that I want to punch his face. “I’ll stay for a little longer.” I dismiss him with a shrug. “I don’t want him to be alone…” I know I’m making a fool of myself but I can’t help it. This is Brian, my lover, my love, the man I was and still am planning to spend the rest of my life with, an because of this I’m dead afraid that if I leave him alone for too long I may never get to see him again. I sniffle, hoping that Ben will get my drift and let it go.

“Okay,” he says and places a hanky into my lax hand. “Call us if there’s any change.”

I nod and dab my eyes.

“I’ll be on my way, too,” Lindsay says and kisses me on the cheek. “You sure you don’t want to come, too? There really is nothing you can do for him right now.”

I keep my back to her, too. God, why can’t they be gone already. Go away people, leave me the fuck alone. If you cannot be bothered to stay the night, get the fuck out of here but stop trying to drag me along with you. Brian needs me by his side.

“Goodbye, Lindz,” I say when I feel her hovering behind my back.

“Goodbye, Justin.”

I listen to the clicking of her heels. Thank God she is gone. Thank God they are all gone. I slide down to the floor and bury my face in the heels my hands, finally allowing the tears to fall freely.

   
   
Tbc.  
   
   
   
   



End file.
